


a welcome respite

by thiefless



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, EDITH Glasses (Marvel), Fluff and Angst, Gen, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home Mid-Credits Scene, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24294103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiefless/pseuds/thiefless
Summary: In the immediate aftermath of his international unveiling, Peter finally talked to the one person he knew would make it all better:“What can I say? Even dead, I'm the hero.”Peter groaned in mock affront. “I cannot believe you used that acronym.”“Come on, it's fantastic.”“It's horrible.”“You love it.”
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75





	a welcome respite

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short little something I've had in my notes app for ages, so I decided to finally publish it. It's a little on the fluffy side, but I think we could all do with a little fluff. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy! :)

In the immediate aftermath of his international unveiling, Peter finally talked to the one person he knew would make it all better:

“So,” Peter began – tentative, hesitant as he stared at the mirror image of his dead mentor. “You're telling me that you literally left a piece of your soul behind?”

Tony thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “Pretty much sums it up. God, that is poetic. Knew I was artistic in a past life.”

“So... you're basically a horcrux?”

Tony's expression immediately soured. “I hate that I know what that is.” He gave a long-suffering sigh that had Peter's lip twitch in amusement. “But that analogy isn't far off. I'm more than just a cheap illusion that fake Beck conjured. I'm more... _me_ ,” he finished with a dramatic flair, arms outstretched in his usual poise. 

Hysterical giggles bubbled, rose from within Peter's diaphragm and hindered his breathing. 

Tony smirked at Peter's reaction, not in the slightest perturbed at the insanity of the situation. “What can I say? Even dead, I'm the hero.”

Peter groaned in mock affront. “I cannot believe you used that acronym.”

“Come on, it's fantastic.”

“It's horrible.”

“You love it.”

The easy camaraderie that developed between the two, a consequence of late night lab sessions that had them quickly building a rapport, slipped through the air like sand in hands. 

“Hell yeah, I do,” Peter choked. He swallowed, braced himself for impact, and then ejected: “Mr. Stark. I screwed the pooch on this one. Massively.”

“Yeah, kid. You really did.” While the words were reproachful the tone was nothing but exasperated fondness, a half smile dancing on his lips. “So what are you gonna do?”

Peter choked a watery chuckle. “Happy asked me the same thing.”

“And?”

“I told him that I'd kick some ass.”

Tony quirked an amused brow. “You said that, huh? You've changed, kid.”

Peter's reply was non-verbal.

The memory of his mentor took pity on him. “Well,” he drawled. “First things first, you are gonna hop on a plane and hug Morgan for me. Trust me, it'll make you feel better.” His illusion waves a lazy hand. “Don't ask me why. She has superpowers.”

Peter chuckled through a fountain of tears, remembering having that thought himself. “Right,” he said – before he remembered that _he_ had been the one to have that thought. _Himself_. “Wait. How do you even know that–?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Kid, I _am_ you. Or, rather, your conscience. Huh. You know, this reminds me of that time in Germany when Lang got inside my suit. Freaked me the hell out.” He gave a wry smile, eyes lost in thought and Peter's heart clenched at just how Tony he was – without being Tony.

“How can you possibly know that?”

The older man's eyes snapped back to his and Peter started at the raw anguish that was swimming in their depths. Tony's eyes were like supernovas when he was living but now they were a bottomless pit. A swarming black hole set to engulf him that offered no escape; relentless in its intensity. 

Peter swallowed and looked away, edging away from the event horizon. 

“Kid, everything I am is in these glasses. Everything Tony Stark was, everything Iron Man strove to become, all of it. You possess the culmination of my life's work. All my trials and tribulations and failings and mistakes are in your hands, Pete.”

Guilt rose up in Peter's mouth, thick and heavy and tasted like bile. Shame coloured his cheeks and ducked his head, unable to bear the weight of the trust of this man. “And I squandered it,” he whispered in a broken tone. 

The face of his mentor had nothing to say in the face of Peter's mile-wide regretful grief.

“Could I have stopped you?” Peter choked out, voice shaky and unsteady. Tears pooled in his eyes but he refused to shed them even as they blurred the image in front of him.

The illusion was silent for a long moment and Peter feared what that meant. It was unnatural for Tony Stark to be so quiet; was unnatural for Tony Stark to be _dead_ even after eight long months of being in that state. Iron Man deserved to live in the world he fought tooth and nail to restore. Morgan deserved her father – Peter knew the devastation losing a parent wrought on an a child. He was speaking from experience.

All Peter did was _lose_ and _lose_ and _lose_. **Lost** against Mysterio in the most horrendous fashion; **lost** against Thanos, for all his freaky spider DNA he could not get the stupid gauntlet off the purple brute the first time; **lost** against the Vulture all those years ago.

 **Lost** his parents to a faulty plane; **lost** his uncle in a cruel twist of fate – and Peter had never forgiven himself for that, even after all this time – **lost** Tony.

 _Peter_... was the catalyst. The reason for their deaths. Everything he touched died. It was like a rite of passage. 

“I think you know the answer, Peter.”

Peter scoffed bitterly, scrubbing his sneakers on the floor. “But you're not _real_.”

“Physically, no. But I'm in your head, kid. And I'm in these glasses.” The illusion managed a wonky, lop-sided smile. “Real enough, don't you think?”

And – what the hell, right? Reality and illusions had ceased to hold any meaning in his life, recently coexisting in a concoction that should only manifest in nightmares. 

“I thought you said that this was all in my head,” Peter accused, though his heart wasn't in it. 

Tony shrugged. “You know me. I'm a complex man.”

“You're a machine.”

“Well, everyone was always telling me I was more machine than human. I'd hate to disappoint the masses.”

Peter ducked his head. Their time was nearly up. 

“I better go.”

Tony bowed his head. “You should. Kid–” he interrupted, sharp, forcing Peter's eyes to snap to his mentor's artificial intelligence. “You got this.”

 _I got this_ , Peter repeated in his mind. 

Because he did.

He could do this. 


End file.
